Tuna (Addison/Callie friendship 1/1)
Title: Tuna
Written for: urban_stoop for purimgifts
Rating: PG
Pairing: Addison/Callie friendship.
Word count: 478
Summary: One good thing about Seattle, you’ve learned, is that when it isn’t full of mud, the grass is always green.
Notes: milk_and_glass stayed online to listen to me spew insanity and ridiculousness as I was writing these and then she beta'ed. Because she's awesome like that.
“I told you.”
“Shut up, Callie.”
One good thing about Seattle, you’ve learned, is that when it isn’t full of mud, the grass is always green. And it doesn’t require constant watering (though you’ve noticed that there’s a bit of an issue mowing when it’s full of mud) and you’re able to keep flowers better than you could in New York or your brief stint in LA (which was really an impressive lapse of reason).
You bite your lip and smile and nod, knowing that your friend is right. Was right. Has always been right. From the day of her infamous “lines of deliciousness” comment to the day she personally flew to Los Angeles to tell you that you were being stupid to the day she accepted your offer of maid of honor. You had your doubts about her always being right when she married George - you knew from the beginning that Isobel Stevens would be a problem - but then, somehow, it worked out. There was a divorce and then Mark and then a string of women but somehow her bizarre personal life has never made you seriously rethink your belief that she’s always right.
You and Pete had some issues when you came back and dragged him along with you. You had a legendary shouting match that involved you telling him he was confusing and a misleading jackass and he called you avoidant and an upperclass snob who is used to getting what she wants just by asking. You’re pretty sure that you called him a quack (again), but no one’s been able to confirm or deny that. You got it out of your systems and even though you had stolen his key to your apartment to prove a point you’ve long since forgotten, he managed to get in anyway (you suspected Callie, because she had a copy, and later found out that you suspected correctly) and was there before you, and your blouse and his shirt were a lost cause before your lips even touched.
You stand on the deck of your house (since you’ve decided that you needed a space bigger than that apartment, though Pete would raise an eyebrow and mention something about a sprawling shoe and purse collection) next to her and watch your fiancée (you’re pretty sure that you’re never actually going to tie the knot, neither one of you wanting to go in that particular direction again, but the commitment is nice) and her girlfriend argue about the proper way to barbeque.
“Say it.”
“Shut up, Callie,” you repeat with a grin. You’re pretty sure that the two of you will be old and crotchety together and you’ll still never give her the satisfaction of telling her that she was right. That even though the men in this city aren’t for you, the city itself (and her, of course) is worthwhile.
Written for: urban_stoop for purimgifts
Rating: PG
Pairing: Addison/Callie friendship.
Word count: 478
Summary: One good thing about Seattle, you’ve learned, is that when it isn’t full of mud, the grass is always green.
Notes: milk_and_glass stayed online to listen to me spew insanity and ridiculousness as I was writing these and then she beta'ed. Because she's awesome like that.
“I told you.”
“Shut up, Callie.”
One good thing about Seattle, you’ve learned, is that when it isn’t full of mud, the grass is always green. And it doesn’t require constant watering (though you’ve noticed that there’s a bit of an issue mowing when it’s full of mud) and you’re able to keep flowers better than you could in New York or your brief stint in LA (which was really an impressive lapse of reason).
You bite your lip and smile and nod, knowing that your friend is right. Was right. Has always been right. From the day of her infamous “lines of deliciousness” comment to the day she personally flew to Los Angeles to tell you that you were being stupid to the day she accepted your offer of maid of honor. You had your doubts about her always being right when she married George - you knew from the beginning that Isobel Stevens would be a problem - but then, somehow, it worked out. There was a divorce and then Mark and then a string of women but somehow her bizarre personal life has never made you seriously rethink your belief that she’s always right.
You and Pete had some issues when you came back and dragged him along with you. You had a legendary shouting match that involved you telling him he was confusing and a misleading jackass and he called you avoidant and an upperclass snob who is used to getting what she wants just by asking. You’re pretty sure that you called him a quack (again), but no one’s been able to confirm or deny that. You got it out of your systems and even though you had stolen his key to your apartment to prove a point you’ve long since forgotten, he managed to get in anyway (you suspected Callie, because she had a copy, and later found out that you suspected correctly) and was there before you, and your blouse and his shirt were a lost cause before your lips even touched.
You stand on the deck of your house (since you’ve decided that you needed a space bigger than that apartment, though Pete would raise an eyebrow and mention something about a sprawling shoe and purse collection) next to her and watch your fiancée (you’re pretty sure that you’re never actually going to tie the knot, neither one of you wanting to go in that particular direction again, but the commitment is nice) and her girlfriend argue about the proper way to barbeque.
“Say it.”
“Shut up, Callie,” you repeat with a grin. You’re pretty sure that the two of you will be old and crotchety together and you’ll still never give her the satisfaction of telling her that she was right. That even though the men in this city aren’t for you, the city itself (and her, of course) is worthwhile.